Filmstar
by spongecake 2
Summary: She brought me back to reality. The cold, bitter reality. Reality hurt. Lee/Jun. Read and review.


Filmstar by spongecake2

**Filmstar by spongecake2**

**Author's Note: Hey ho. Here's a Lee/Jun fic. The idea for that pairing has actually been going for a while, so I know it's not original, but I couldn't think of anyone else too blatent. I listened to this song, and I thought it would suit Lee very well. I've noticed that most of the stories based on him are an angst-y moan about Kazuya. Either that or a romance one shot in which, more often than not, Lee's pairing is with Anna or Nina. No offence to anybody who likes that sort of stuff, but they seem to be the extent of how people write for him. I mean, if you can write it well, fair enough, but he should be with somebody else, pairing wise. That said, who the hell could I do? Michelle would be too obvious, I was quite worried about using Jun because she's already been used with Lee, and I'm not doing Yaoi. No. Fucking. Way. Now don't call me a homophobe. If it rocks your boat, fine, I don't care, but, as for myself, I have better reasons to stick a gun in between my teeth for. So, now that's out the way, read and review, please.**

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Filmstar, propping up the bar, driving in a car, it looks so easy,  
Filmstar, propping up the bar, driving in a car tonight,  
Filmstar, giving it class, living it fast, it looks so easy,  
Filmstar, giving it class, living it fast tonight.

What to believe in, it's impossible to say.  
What to believe in when they change your name;  
wash your brain; play the game again?

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Filmstar by Suede

* * *

Everything slowed up. It always did when I walked in. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked to me. I couldn't blame them. I was the one that everyone waited for. The one everyone knew. The important one. The most important man in this room. I looked around. Nobody else here was as important as I was. The host was always most important to them.

Ahh, but who's the most important person to the host?

I scanned across the room. I couldn't believe how many people had come. Paul and Marshall sat in a corner, drunk out of their minds, throwing insults at people. I considered laughing when they called Anna a... now how did they put it? Ahh yes. "A lady of the night" would be the term I'd use. Then Paul grabbed a handful of peanuts and swallowed at once. His allergies set in around about now, and he started to puke on the floor. As much of a pig as he was, I liked him. Well, to an extent. I could relate to him in some way or another. He hated Kazuya, he had peanut allergies and he had come from nothing. However, he was still in nothing. As much as I hate Heihachi, I have to thank him for taking me in. I was glad I hadn't ended like Paul. Paul had no money, no power, no influence, no...

No secrets. No façade to put up. No hard outer shield to keep up from the rest of the world. I walked away, pretending to observe others in the room, yet I had barely even acknowledged if they were there or not. I was thinking hard. Thinking hard was something I rarely did in public, but sometimes, thoughts would take me away on a cloud.

Cloud. A poor choice of words. I was already up in the dream. I had built it for myself. Despite the fact my stupid brother had set up a tournament on _my_ property, despite the fact I was second best (which, if I could help it, wouldn't last long) I had everything I needed. I had created the dream myself. My thoughts would drag me to the _reality. _The cold bitter reality. Reality hurt. I avoided it at all costs. It was a sickening experience. Speaking of sickening experiences...

"Hey, Lee." Came the vomit stenched breath of Paul, his hand on my shoulder, his other scratching his balls. I pretended to be disapproving, but really, I envied him. He had nothing, and that gave him everything.

"You smell horribly, so no change, Phoenix." I said, brushing the hand off. He punched me lightly.

"Says you." He said. That hurt more than I put on. It implied I was second best... and I always was. I was never first. Always getting the fucking silver.

"Yeah." I sighed. "Says me." Then something stopped Paul from continuing his assault on my emotions.

"Woah. Look at that babe!" He breathed. He wasn't really talking, so it must've been good. I looked up.

And something in my brain kicked itself.

The drifting beauty and calm that radiated from the black haired girl shocked me. It dribbled its way into the depths of my heart and brain. The thing was, she wasn't greatly attractive either. Sure, I wouldn't miss the chance to see her without the white garment, but still, at the same time, she was no Leah Dizon. A reasonable face, small breasts, pert yet un-protruding hips, brown eyes of a contemplating colour. Maybe it was just the purity of her. The aura around her. She walked over; her pleasant smile polite, showing happiness but not ecstasy. Paul elbowed me, bringing me back from the chance.

"Do or not do?" He whispered. Before I could stop myself...

"Do." I replied. I tried to redeem myself. "Though not just for the sake of it." Paul smiled.

"She seems to like you. She's coming over." He said. I looked up. Indeed she was. Everyone looked as she went. Sure, I turned every head in the room, but she didn't stop breathing in other people.

"I don't know." I whispered to the biker beside me. "She may be attracted to the smell of vomit." Paul laughed. It was then I had realised nobody else was speaking. She must've heard everything. I expected a scornful comeback. Amazingly, she giggled. She then extended a hand.

"Jun Kazama." She said. Paul and I took it turns to shake it. The skin was softer than a feather. The aura of the hand rushed through mine. Time seemed to freeze. I knew then. I knew how I felt. Felt about her. I wanted to melt into the floor when I realised I was being weak. Weak for some girl who walked in and shook a hand. The conversation wasn't dry. It kept me interested, but thoughts were rushing my head. The shield I had built up over the years was crumbling. I was soon going to slip. I knew it. I'd act human to her. Without a witty yet cynical charm, but with real, pure passion.

Real, pure love.

No, I told myself. I wouldn't drop down to that level. She had taken everything from me piece by piece. I was acting as I would to anybody else, but that's the word. Acting. She had unknowingly taken the knight in the armour apart, leaving a sheet of metal. The worst; I couldn't blame her. She didn't know she was. She was innocent. So I wouldn't blame her. Or love her. I had brainwashed myself never to feel anything. I was simply in a dream world, so it would stay. I'd be the army defending the city that's not there anymore. The magician without a trick. The film star without a script. All the feelings about the world were now replaced with her, so I'd lie to myself. Beat myself into submission.

She had unwittingly dragged me to the _reality. _The cold bitter reality. Reality hurt.

It hurt like fucking hell.

* * *

Filmstar, an elegant sir, a Terylene shirt, it looks so easy,  
Filmstar, an elegant sir in a Terylene shirt tonight,  
Filmstar, propping up the bar, driving in a car, it looks so easy,  
Filmstar, propping up the bar, driving in a car tonight.

What to believe in, it's impossible to say.  
What to believe in when they change your name;  
wash your brain, play the game again?

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Filmstar by Suede

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**I really should lay off the angst, but it something that I've gotten into. Dear god, next I be locking myself in my room, playing Nine Inch Nails and refusing to cut my hair. This story isn't great, but ah well, nothing I really do is really great... (bursts into tears) _I'M A MISERABLE FAILURE!_ (gets a grip on reality) Sorry about that. Read and review. Flamers have an unwritten agreement with me: They complain, I ignore them until they drop down dead, so hate me as much as you bloody well want.**


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